Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect
by whoturnedoutthelights
Summary: Harry Potter, who has spent four years riding around on trains now has to deal with magical education. AU, diverges 1987, same universe as "The Scarred Man and the A Stock", covers First Year, or will do, when it's done. With Genius!Hermione, Hipster!Dumbledore, Has-A-Brain!Ron, Snape!Snape and even more trains than last time. No pairings, because they're 11, you stupid Muggles.
1. Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Connect

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, though!

Summary: This will cover Harry's First Year, and is set in the same universe as "The Scarred Man and the A Stock". Don't expect too much of this, because I don't have a history of completing things.

Any text in bold is property of J. K. Rowling, as I have copied it straight from her, because she has written it better than I ever could.

* * *

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Connect, or Owls that Don't Deliver

Harry stepped off the bus and walked down to King's Cross. He'd not been to the main concourse of King's Cross often, partly because he'd had no reason to (the people there were much more watchful), and partly because Finsbury Park was much more convenient. But this time, this time was different.

It was August 30th, 1991, and Harry Potter had come to King's Cross to do some research.

It had all started just over a month ago. Harry had been on the Victoria Line platforms at Stockwell, waiting for his next train, when it happened. As the train came roaring up the tunnel, Harry saw an owl fly over people's heads and over the track. A second later, the poor creature could feel the air currents, and took off at top speed up the tunnel, away from the arriving train. As it pulled in, he saw the driver's face, a mask of utter confusion. What was going on?

When he got off the train in Brixton, it was to find an owl on the southern end of the platform, looking absolutely exhausted, with a letter attached to its leg. What was going on? He took the letter from its leg - it was addressed to him!

**No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He'd never had friends, no other relatives** - he'd spent the last four years wandering around London, for crying out loud! **Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:**

Mr. H. Potter

1973 Stock Train

Aldwych Tube Station

London

**The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink.** Harry slowly opened the letter, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall,**

**Deputy Headmistress**

Harry smiled. He knew what this was now! It was clearly a clever ploy by Fletcher. Fletcher was a con artist, based in Leicester Square, with an uncanny ability to disappear when the police turned up. Every time Harry passed through Leicester Square, Fletcher would attempt to convince him to join him in his "deals", and would tell him magic was real - but Harry wasn't fooled. Wondering idly how Fletcher had managed to get hold of an owl, he hopped back on the train just before the doors closed.

* * *

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was perplexed. Hogwarts owls ALWAYS delivered the acceptance letters. They had never failed once. Sure - people had not responded, that happened occasionally - but never had the owls failed to deliver. Yet when she attempted to send this letter, the moment she entered the owlery, all the owls - every single one - took off immediately straight up into the rafters, as if they were frightened of something! But what could they possibly be scared of? She glanced down at the letter, and stared. She re-read the address in shock. Then she took off down the stairs, three at a time, yelling at the top of her voice.

"ALBUS!"

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer of the German Institute of Sorcery, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Muggle-Wizarding Unification Ministry President (a branch of the ICW) and Headmaster of Hogwarts was groaning. He had his head in his hands. His Deputy Headmistress had just come into his office and chewed his head off, and now Emmeline Vance was making her monthly visit with information about the location and behaviour of Lord Voldemort. He wasn't really listening to that, though. Harry was still alive and well, but untraceable. You can't trace a wizard underground, because if you are unable to travel in a direct line towards your target the Point-Me spell is useless. He nodded to something Emmeline had just said, then tuned in for a moment.

"... lost him for a few days, but the new triangulation..."

... wait... triangulation?

He stopped Emmeline.

"Do you know where Voldemort is right now?" he asked.

"Yes, but..."

"Excellent! Now gather the Order. Harry Potter is somewhere on the London Underground, and we have to find him."

* * *

Harry was settling down for the night. He'd picked one of his favourite spots, the bench at the far end of the southbound Northern City platform at Highbury and Islington, when he heard people coming down the platform, which was strange. Nobody came this far down the platform! He sat up and looked carefully, then pinched himself. It hurt - so he wasn't dreaming. But what other excuse was there for Fletcher, a con artist who never left Leicester Square, the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster he'd met two years ago on the East London Line (dressed in robes of lavender this time), and a grizzly haired man with a wooden leg and an eye-patch to be doing, together, in a station about to close?

That was not the first time he'd pinched himself that night. He'd done it when Fletcher gave his first name (really, who names their kid Mundungus), when the grizzly man (one Alastor Moody) had removed his eye-patch to show an electric blue eye, whizzing around in its socket, completely out of sync with his other, normal eye, and twice when the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster (who turned out to be the Professor Albus Dumbledore of the letter) levitated him. Eventually, however, he came to the realisation that no, he was not dreaming, that yes, magic WAS real and he'd met quite a few wizards in the last four years, and Fletcher disappeared off to wipe the CCTV footage and "confound" the staff at the control centre. Harry drew the line at Professor Dumbledore taking him away to Diagon Alley, though.

"I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, Professor?" said Harry. Dumbledore looked at him extremely strangely, then explained where to find the Leaky Cauldron, a pub in Charing Cross Road.

"You will be able to see it, although muggles around you will not," he said. "Ask for a man named Rubeus Hagrid - he will be able to show you around the Alley and give you some helpful advice."

Harry thanked Professor Dumbledore, then sat back down on the bench. Dumbledore seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but decided not to, and said goodnight. The two of them started heading back down the platform towards the exit, but Moody turned around about halfway down.

"Well, happy birthday, boy," he said. It was the first time he'd spoken that night (Dumbledore had introduced him). He had quite a gruff voice, but Harry didn't really care - he got the feeling Moody would speak his mind. Then they headed up the stairs at the end of the platform, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

* * *

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Senior Auror and Generally Grumpy And Paranoid Man, was impressed. When Dumbledore had convened part of the Order to track down a ten-year-old boy, he was initially derisive. However, it had taken them two days to pin down Harry Potter. Two days for a team of six to pin down a ten-year-old who knew no magic and didn't even know he was being tracked. He could make a fine Auror, given time and training. However, his old friend Albus Dumbledore looked worried.

"What do you think of him, Albus?" asked Moody.

"This makes me deeply uneasy," admitted Dumbledore. "Is it possible he's going Dark?" Moody scoffed.

"The kid's been living on his own for several years now," said Moody. "He's survived this far through keeping his eyes open and practising constant vigilance. You can't expect him to trust you immediately, neither can you expect him not to have some measure of independence. Besides, he hasn't hurt anyone yet!"

Dumbledore just nodded. Moody disapparated, leaving the Headmaster to his thoughts for a moment, before he too turned on his heel and disappeared.

* * *

That morning (July 31st), Harry made his way down to Charing Cross Road (he'd been given a small breakfast by a stallholder in Finsbury Park, who he knew well), and to the Leaky Cauldron pub. There, he met Rubeus Hagrid, who was probably too tall to be allowed anywhere in non-magical London. Hagrid was tall and wild-haired, but his heart was in the right place, and Harry found he liked the giant grounds-keeper very much. And Hagrid had known his parents! That was only the start of a day absolutely strewn with surprises - one that particularly stood out was the discovery of a huge pile of gold, left to him by his parents.

He'd also been given a snowy owl as a birthday present. Harry had been unable to stop stuttering his thanks. The owl in question, whom he had named Hedwig (a name he had found in his History of Magic textbook), was now sitting up in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, asleep - she preferred to hunt at night.

When he'd asked Hagrid about his parents, however, the story had been less than pleasant. In fact, it had been quite a horrible tale - though thankfully better than what the Dursleys had tried to feed him. Hagrid had reassured him that Voldemort was no longer a threat, and urged him not to say the name in the same breath. This worried Harry, but he didn't bring it up with Hagrid. The other thing that was puzzling was that nobody had yet spotted him - if what Hagrid had said was to be believed, he was the most famous child in the magical world! Harry figured it was probably his uncut hair, and resolved never to get it cut again. He didn't want any attention, thank you very much - it could only lead to bad things.

Hagrid had then booked him a room in the Leaky Cauldron, and paid for his meals. Harry had thanked him, and he'd spent the last month there. Diagon Alley was certainly an interesting place to explore, and he'd gone back to Gringotts on the second of August. They'd not been able to provide him with a bottomless pouch for his money, nor had he picked up any more interesting inheritances, but they'd let him have another ride on the carts, saying that "most wand-carriers look down upon the cart ride", and that his "enthusiasm for our craftsmanship" was very welcome.

Oh, and one last thing. Hagrid had left him with his train ticket to Hogwarts, and then disappeared before Harry could ask about Platform Nine and Three Quarters. If there was one thing that annoyed Harry during his time in London, it was missed connections. Which brings us up to date.

* * *

Harry walked onto the concourse at King's Cross. This was definitely not one of his favourite stations - a corrugated iron box for a concourse seemed a bit unloved. He made his way down platform 8 and turned off towards platforms 9 and 10. In his opinion, it was silly to send a magical train off from the commuter platforms, but perhaps there was some historical reason for that. He walked up to the ticket barrier and inspected it.

Half an hour later, Harry Potter was utterly perplexed. How was he supposed to catch a train from a platform he couldn't even find? He headed down to a Travel Information booth.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" he asked in desperation. Even in his head, the words sounded silly.

"Nine and Three Quarters? Think you're -" the man stopped. Then, as if in a trance, he reached underneath the desk, pulled out a leaflet and handed it to Harry.

"Here is your complementary flyer on Magical Services from London King's Cross. Have a nice day, and remember to follow the Statute of Secrecy!"

Then the man shook his head, looked down at Harry, and said, "Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Harry, and wandered off. He took a good look at the leaflet.

* * *

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

This daily train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Nine and Three Quarters at 11:00, and takes just seven and a half hours to travel to Hogsmeade Station. Instituted in 1832 by then Minister of Magic Ottaline Gambol, the Hogwarts Express has made the journey to Hogsmeade 7 days a week, 365 days a year, every year since then. First Class Seating is available in Coach A, and Coach H is designated the Muggle Coach, where Muggle Electric Devices can be used without interference.

The Hogwarts Express is noted for being the official mode of transport for Hogwarts Students wishing to attend the school.

ORIENT FLYER

This weekly train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Seven and One Half at 15:00 every Thursday, and wends its way across Europe and Asia, calling in many countries, to arrive in Beijing, China four days later. It was instituted by Minister of Magic Eldritch Diggory in 1961, and offers a cheap and comfortable alternative for those wishing to travel to European or Asian destinations without the discomfort of an international Portkey. The Orient Flyer must be booked in advance - tickets cannot be bought on the day.

The Orient Flyer, our flagship service, is notable for being the first train service to run through the Channel Tunnel between Shakespeare Cliff to Marquise, Pas-de-Calais.

HOGWARTS CONNECT

Established just a year previously in 1990, one of ex-Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold's last acts was to institute a stopping service. Ex-Minister Bagnold, from York, grew up seeing the Hogwarts Express thunder past her house every day, and has always campaigned for a "stopping service, to serve those wizards and witches who find it difficult to reach King's Cross for the 11:00 train".

The Hogwarts Connect leaves London King's Cross, platform Ten and One Quarter at 07:00, and calls at all Muggle stations to Inverness before running down the Hogwarts Branch Line into Hogsmeade Station.

PLATFORMS

All Magical Train Platforms can be accessed by a secure Floo Connection from the Ministry of Magic, or by simply walking through the relevant ticket barrier between the neighbouring Muggle Platforms. Please note that the Floo Connection is closed on September 1st, so as to prevent overcrowding in the Ministry.

* * *

Harry smiled at the leaflet. Now he knew how to catch his train. To make sure he understood, he tried walking through some of the ticket barriers round the station. The barrier between Platforms 1 and 2 was just a solid barrier (and was quite painful, thank you very much), but the one between Platforms 2 and 3 led to a train depot, the one between Platforms 4 and 5 led to a shiny new platform with what looked like a purple triple decker train branded "the Knight Train" and the barrier between Platforms 8 and 9 led to a spooky, abandoned platform with a train marked "Department of Mysteries Staff Train". He smiled, and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. There was a particularly good spaghetti bolognese, courtesy of an Italian wood nymph who had nothing else to pay with, and he didn't want to miss that.

* * *

Well, you asked for more London-Underground!Harry, and here you are! Reviews, please, would be nice.

I know that conventionally, Harry Potter fanfiction writers tend to go through the Wizard Introduction and the Diagon Alley trip in excruciating detail, and if something changes, I'm OK with that. However, I find it extremely dull when somebody updates their story with a bunch of text copied straight from canon covering a trip I've seen so many times I probably know it off by heart. I can tell you now that my Diagon Alley trip is exactly the same as usual. Harry gets the same wand, has the same meeting with Draco Malfoy and the same discussions with Hagrid. He even gets the same ice-cream.

I also hope you liked my little nod to conventional Independent!Disillusioned!Super-Rich-Effectively-Pureblood!Harry stories. This is certainly an Independent!Harry story, but I'm trying to make it a little more realistic, so you won't find All-The-Answers!Goblins here. Nor will you find Pocket-Dimension!Trunks, Evil!Dumbledore, Parselmagic, Weasley-bashing (well, not permanently at least - can't you trust Canon!Harry's judgement?) or any of that sort of thing.

Quite frankly, you can't appreciate the letter handover properly unless you head down to the Northern City (now First Capital Connect) platforms at Highbury and Islington, or at Essex Road, or Old Street (this is at off-peak times) and go to the far end. The lighting is always flickering, the signs are from a bygone age, forgotten, there's barely a person on the platform and whenever a train is on its way in, it makes a clicking noise like a hungry Aragog. That's a description I might reuse!


	2. Chapter 2: Those Stupid Books!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Hogwarts Express or any train that calls at King's Cross Station. Harry Potter and the HogEx both belong to J. K. Rowling, and the trains calling at King's Cross belong to various real people - most belong to East Coast, though. Neither do I own the Keys to the Kingdom series, or any quotes from it.

Any text in bold is property of J. K. Rowling, because she can write better than I can.

Summary: Harry Potter grows up on the London Underground. He learns to hide, to charm, and of course, never to miss the train!

Author's Note: How did Harry get an education when he was homeless from the age of seven? Mostly by osmosis. The human mind is a wonderful thing. I'd think he'd pick up simple maths pretty fast, what with the money issues he'd have. He'd already learned the basics of reading in school, and probably read quite a few newspapers over the four years. He's probably bumped into his fair share of city traders, school trips, interested tourists and the like, and he's charming, especially in comparison with most of the people you meet at peak time. Besides, most wizards seem to get along just fine.

* * *

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 2: Those Stupid Books, or Diesel Multiple Units

September 1st, 1991 dawned.

On this day, the Soviet Union continued to dissolve.

On this day, soon-to-be Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom Jonathan Sacks prepared for his induction.

On this day, in a small room above a secret magical pub in Central London, around 3 minutes from Leicester Square tube station, a young wizard by the name of Harry James Potter was busy packing. He didn't want to miss his train after all.

Harry didn't have too much to pack. Most of his school robes and clothes were already in his trunk, lovingly folded. New clothes, after all, were a luxury he'd never had before. His books were in there as well (apart from Magical Draughts and Potions, which was somewhere - now where did I put it last night, he thought), and he'd somehow managed to get his cauldron to fit inside as well.

He wandered over to the window, and looked out over London. The city had been his home for four years, but in all that time there were still secrets to uncover - such as Magical London! But today was the day he was leaving. Today was the day he was starting a new life!

He picked up his telescope from where it sat by the window, and the book beside it (ah - there it was!), and put them into his trunk. He closed the lid, straightened up and attempted to lift the trunk.

Wow, it was heavy. There was nothing for it. He'd have to take a bus. But first, breakfast.

* * *

The clock struck half nine above St Pancras Chambers, George Gilbert Scott's impressive masterpiece on the Euston Road, which in 2002 would stand in for King's Cross Station in the second Harry Potter film. Harry Potter himself was not there though. Harry Potter was getting off the bus round the corner, beside St Pancras's unimpressive, boring sister King's Cross Station, dragging an extremely heavy trunk and a shiny new cage, containing one very disgruntled Hedwig. A number of frowning old ladies heading towards Holloway on the bus he'd just left began to grumble about "young children these days".

Five minutes later, he'd found a luggage trolley, put his trunk and Hedwig on it and pushed it into the station, heading towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was a clever idea, to hide the gateway to a magical intercity train between two commuter platforms. Commuters never bothered to look around themselves.

Harry came to a stop about ten feet from the barriers. They looked very solid, but this was something he'd tried several times on Friday, and he walked straight through the barrier, and came to a stop.

A scarlet steam engine stood on the platform, belching steam. Behind it were six 19th century carriages. The platform itself was empty. Harry wandered down to the last carriage, where he attempted to lift his trunk on board. After dropping it on his foot, several times, he managed to prop one end of it up against the doorway. Lifting the other end onto the train, however, was beyond him.

And so it was that twenty minutes later, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, first met Drs John and Ophelia Granger and their young daughter Hermione with his back to his trunk and the train and his owl on his lap, cursing the archaic tendencies of a Wizarding World reluctant to switch to Diesel Multiple Units.

* * *

Dr John Granger of Molesey Dental Practice, Surrey (there were worse places to set up shop - he could have been in Kent, or even in Dent!) was highly amused.

He was also absolutely horrified, of course. Harry's story was certainly a horrifying one. Orphaned at one, abandoned by his remaining family at seven, homeless for four years - the list just went on! He could feel his wife's maternal instincts coming into play. But underneath all that, he was highly amused.

After all, this kid was eleven years old! Eleven years old, behaving four times his age, and the only other person in this world not enchanted by this new world of wizards and magic.

The dentist let a smile rise to his face, as Hermione levitated the trunk onto the train to the kid's (Harry's, he reminded himself) annoyance. At least not all wizards were crazy.

* * *

The clock struck eleven above St Pancras Chambers, and the huge red steam locomotive started to pull away from the platform. This was it, thought Harry, goodbye London, hello Hogwarts. He watched outside the window as the train pulled out of the platform and alongside the main line. Then he turned to speak to Hermione, who was next to him, but her head was buried in a large, leather-bound copy of Aletha Freeman's Depository of Healing Enchantments.

Harry, who was used to urban solitude, did not press the issue.

Another ten minutes after that, as the train was passing through Hadley Common (probably as far north as Harry had ever been), the door opened to reveal a redheaded young boy. **He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.**

"Can I sit here?" the boy asked. "Everywhere else is full." Harry nodded, and the boy dragged his trunk inside before sitting down. Hermione looked up from her book for a moment, looked the boy up and down, then buried her head in her book again.

They sat in silence for another minute, before the boy spoke up.

"Blimey, you're quiet," he said. "It's unnatural, sitting in here with you two just staring."

"Sorry," said Harry, and he meant it. "It's just that most Muggles don't really talk to each other on train journeys. It's a shame, really. Are you from a wizarding family?"

"Yes," said the boy. "Pretty much. **I think** **Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we don't talk about him really. **I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

Ron laughed.

"No, you're not," he said. "Harry Potter's eight feet tall, with a pointy beard down to his waist!"

Hermione started laughing so hard, she dropped the book she was holding. Ron turned to glare at her, but she didn't really notice. Harry was in shock.

"Honestly, eight feet tall! No human being who's eleven years old can be eight feet tall, it's not possible. Let alone have a beard," she said, when she had calmed down. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Do all wizards have no sense of proportion?"

Ron gaped. Before he could attempt to respond, though, Harry (who had just recovered from this stunning revelation) stepped in.

"Seeing as they can all fly on broomsticks, do you really expect them to? But seriously, eight feet tall?"

"Well, that's what it says in the books about you. Ginny - she's my sister - believes it completely." Hermione started laughing again. Ron seemed to decide she was crazy, and turned to Harry.

"But have you got the - you know - scar?" Harry lifted his (even longer) fringe. **Ron stared.**

**"So that's where You-Know-Who..."**

**"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."**

**"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.**

**"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."**

"Most people don't store long-term memories until about the age of three, so I'm surprised you recall that much," said Hermione. "But maybe it's different for wizards, nobody in my family's magic at all, so I wouldn't know. What's different about wizarding households?"

"Well, not much really. We've got a ghoul in the attic, and we can play Quidditch in the orchard, but that's about it. Dad really likes Muggles, thinks they're fascinating, so he's always bringing Muggle stuff home. But what's it like living with Muggles?"

Hermione was, for the first time in her life, stumped by the question. How do you describe normal life and normal people? Harry came to her rescue.

"Well, my aunt and uncle and cousin were horrible. I used to live with them until I was seven, but then they took Dudley - my cousin - to the London Dungeon, and we were on the Underground, and he tripped me up and I was abandoned on the train. I've been living on the trains ever since. Most of the people are quite nice - they'd give me free pasties or ice creams, or a hot bacon roll for breakfast, and -" he trailed off, looking at Ron, who was gaping once more.

"Wow," said Ron. "I mean - I thought we had it bad. Dad works at the Ministry, but they don't pay him very much, and there's seven of us at home. Bill and Charlie have already left and got jobs, Percy, Fred, George and me are going to Hogwarts and Ginny's still too young to go. I'm the youngest in the family, apart from Ginny, but she's a girl so it's different, so I never get anything new - I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat - but at least I've got a bedroom and Mum cooks me food. Do many Muggles not have places to live, then?"

Hermione looked scandalised.

"No! Almost all non-magical families have a home to go to, and children without a home live in orphanages or foster homes." Harry raised an eyebrow. "OK - I suppose you don't - wait, how were you not found by Social Services?"

"Social Services?" asked Ron.

"They're in charge of improving people's lives, supposedly. Not that they do, really. I'd heard bad things about orphanages, so I kept an eye open for them," said Harry.

"Right," said Ron. "So what do you do? How do you get food?"

Harry began to tell Ron all about his life wandering around London, culminating in the events of his birthday. Hermione sat back on her seat, but Harry could tell she was listening too.

"and so I was on the train towards Whitechapel when I meet this old man in a bright yellow cloak, with a tube map on his left knee, and we talk for a while. Turns out he was Professor Dumbledore! It's going to be really hard to think of him as a teacher." Harry's story was then stopped by two incredulous questions from Ron and Hermione.

"Dumbledore uses Muggle trains?" This came from Ron, who looked more shocked than he had so far.

"Professor Dumbledore, Supreme Muggle-Wizarding Unification Ministry President wears bright yellow cloaks?" Hermione looked about as shocked as Ron, and that's pretty shocked, just so you know.

Harry looked at the two of them, then burst out laughing once more. Both Ron and Hermione looked indignant for a moment, but joined him in laughing.

They continued in this vein, with the three of them swapping stories for a while. Harry told them about his other encounters with wizards, and about all the strange people he'd met at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione told a few stories of difficult patients at the dentistry practice. Ron was just finishing a particularly gripping tale about the time when he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom when the door opened, and a boy with a pale, pointed face and platinum blonde hair, slicked back, whom Harry had met a month earlier in Diagon Alley stepped in. He was not alone, either - on either side of him was a thickset, mean, ugly looking bodyguard. Well, boys, actually, but they were probably bodyguards too.

"Have any of you seen -" the boy tailed off when he realised who was in the compartment.

"Have any of us seen what?" asked Ron.

"I was going to ask, have you seen Harry Potter, but he obviously wouldn't be hanging around with you. Red hair? Hand-me-downs? You must be a Weasley," said the boy. "Have you seen him?"

"Have I seen whom?" asked Hermione.

"Have you seen Harry Potter?" said the boy.

"No, don't think so," said Hermione. "What does he look like?"

"As I thought, you haven't seen him. Harry Potter is eight feet tall, with a pointy beard down to his waist. And never speak to me again, you filthy little Mudblood," said the boy. Ron looked outraged, and was about to speak up, but never got a chance to, as Harry looked up at the boy for the first time in the journey, his eyes dancing with mirth, and said,

"Those stupid books! I'm eleven years old. Do all wizards have no sense of proportion?"

The three of them burst into laughter again. The pale boy looked completely confused. One of the bodyguards started to join in, but the pale boy hit him. Collecting himself after a moment or two, the pale boy delivered one final "insult".

"You're obviously not Harry Potter. Harry Potter would have proper wizarding graces, unlike you," he said, and walked out of the compartment, followed by the two bodyguards. Hermione, if possible, laughed even harder.

"Proper wizarding graces? Honestly, who speaks like that these days?" she said, and the three of them resumed their conversation.

* * *

Well, I was originally going to give you the entire train journey. It's getting longer than I thought, though, and it's difficult to get through the required topics of discussion (there are surprisingly many - that's why Rowling gave it its own chapter). It's not really something I can, or indeed want to skip.

So, Ron and Hermione! I've always thought Ron was given short shrift by fanon. Sure, he's got certain disgusting habits, but we only know about these because he's Harry's best friend, and these are the sorts of things only you know about your best friend. The films really did not help in this aspect, in fact, they made it ten times worse, so we start to miss out on Harry's best friend, and instead we get "Dumb Ginger Kid". I've also upped Hermione's intelligence by a little bit, which will become clearer the further along we get, assuming we get that far. I had several directions for this first meeting between the three of them to possibly go in my head, but this is the one that came out. And it sounds a bit conceited, but I like it. Hermione doesn't get to laugh enough in fanfiction, and that's really quite sad.

Guest review reply: Draco Malfoy is not being psychic. He's just showing a bit of deductive skills, and the deduction will be explained in the next chapter. Don't worry, he's not going to become a genius, that role goes to Hermione - but it's my personal belief that almost nobody is born unintelligent, and one that will come across throughout the series. And anyway, Hermione's still in Muggle clothes, because she'd been chatting to Harry and Ron right from the start.

I have changed the names of Hermione's parents from the usual fanfiction convention. Really, Dan and Emma? You might as well go the whole hog and call them Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson, it's obvious that's what you're trying to say.

I won't be writing any Dangerverse characters. That was a cameo appearance that I felt like putting in.


	3. Chapter 3: Give me those, now!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything in the Harry Potter series. These things belong to J. K. Rowling, who is not me.

Any text in bold comes from either J. K. Rowling directly, or sometimes from the Steve Kloves screenplay, but mostly from J. K. Rowling. This is because she writes better than I do, and the section does not change.

Summary: Harry Potter spends four years homeless on the trains and buses and streets of London. This is an AU, so there are small things which might turn out to be different - hey, that's just Chaos Theory working its magic. He learns to hide, to charm, and never to miss his train.

Author's Note: Any reviews containing criticism or questions will be addressed both at the end of the last chapter, and the start of the next one.

Guest review reply: Draco Malfoy is not being psychic. He's just showing a bit of deductive skills, and the deduction will be explained later in this chapter. Don't worry, he's not going to become a genius, that role goes to Hermione - but it's my personal belief that almost nobody is born unintelligent, and one that will come across throughout the series. And anyway, Hermione's still in Muggle clothes, because she'd been chatting to Harry and Ron right from the start.

* * *

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 3: Give me those, now!, or The Secret Spell of Hengist of Woodcroft

At 13:30 in Doncaster Station, several Muggles were hit by a gust of hot air which came from nowhere. This assumption was false, it was, of course, the Hogwarts Express flying through Platform Three and Five Eighths, a magical structure invisible to Muggle eyes.

Concurrent to this mysterious occurrence, Harry, Ron and Hermione's latest conversation (about Quidditch - well, Ron was enthusing over it, Harry was listening and Hermione had her head buried in Aletha Freeman's Depository again) was interrupted by a far more welcome visitor - namely the trolley lady.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked. Ron made a non-committal noise, which Hermione frowned at, before she got up to get something. Harry, who had seen as much of train food as he could take, declined - expecting it to be the usual selection of weak coffee, even weaker tea and overpriced Mars Bars. Hermione did not come back with these, though. She came back to the seat with what looked like a piece of wood, which she began to chew on. Intrigued, and partly regretting his decision, Harry got up, went out into the corridor and caught the trolley lady before she moved on.

As he had hoped, the trolley did not have tiny packets of Walkers Crisps. What it did have were Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands (which were what Hermione had bought), Droobles Best Blowing Gum and Fizzing Whizzbees. Not wanting to miss out, he got some of everything, and paid the trolley lady with a gold Galleon.

Coming back into the compartment, he tipped the sweets onto an empty seat. Ron looked hungrily at it. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"How are you going to eat all of that?" she asked.

"It's not all for me, Hermione, you two have whatever you want," said Harry, picking up two pasties and throwing one to Ron, who caught it looking dazed. Opening the packet, he took a bite into it. "Aah, it's cold! Who eats cold pasties?"

"I thwwmph there's a shpull for that," said Ron, who didn't seem to care if his pasties were cold or not. Hermione put down her liquorice wand and picked up The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 1 and flicked through it. In a few moments, she put the book down.

"All there seems to be in here is a Fire-Making Charm - Incendio," she said, then reached into her bag and pulled out her wand, flicking it upwards. "Incen-"

"NO!" Harry almost shouted this. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "It's probably not a good idea to set a wooden train on fire. I'll just eat it cold, but thanks, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him strangely, but put her wand back into her bag, then picked up the liquorice one. Ron went back to his pasty, and finished it pretty quickly, before reaching towards the pile to pick up a Cauldron Cake. Harry finished his pasty, then reached towards a packet of Chocolate Frogs and inspected it.

**"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"**

**"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."**

**"What?"**

**"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."** Ron picked up a packet, opened it, bit the head off the frog then picked out the card.

"Merlin - I've got about seven of him," he said. "Do you want him?" Harry took the card with Merlin on it, then opened his own Frog to see a familiar face.

"Dumbledore has a Chocolate Frog card?" asked Harry.

"Course he does," said Ron dismissively. "Greatest wizard in the modern world, he is." Harry tilted his head.

"Really?" he asked sceptically. Ron, who had his mouth full of frog, did not answer. **Harry turned over the card and read:**

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

**Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.**

**Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.**

**"He's gone!"**

**"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. **Harry put the Dumbledore card down on the seat next to Ron, who had picked up a packet of Fudge Flies from the pile.

Hermione picked up the Fizzing Whizzbees, and looked critically at them.

"Do you know these have Billywig Stings inside them?" she asked Ron. Ron's mouth was empty, which was lucky, as whatever would have been in there would have been spat out. "It's in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," she continued.

"I am never eating those again," said Ron. He looked down at the Fudge Flies in his hands.

"I think I'll give these to Scabbers, I don't think I can eat anything for the moment," he said. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep. Hermione moved slightly away from them.

"This is Scabbers, and he's useless - he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead." He looked down at the rat on his lap, and left the Fudge Flies next to it.

"If you want an owl, you can borrow Hedwig," said Harry, suddenly uncomfortable. "There's nothing wrong with not being able to afford an owl, I certainly couldn't until a month ago."

Ron looked up at Hedwig, who glared down at him. He then turned back to Harry.

"You know, if you were homeless for the last four years, how come you could buy all that stuff on the trolley, and how come you've got an owl?" he asked, a slight edge of hostility to his tone. Whatever Ron expected as a response, it was not for Harry to relax and smile at him.

"Oh, that's what's wrong? All this stuff," he gestured to the sweets, Hedwig and his trunk, "was bought with Wizard money! I didn't know I was a wizard until I turned eleven, and Hagrid showed me my parents' vault. Besides, Muggles use different money - not your huge solid gold Galleons, they use smaller coins and banknotes," he said.

"Really, Muggles have their own money? Weird! I wonder what it looks like," said Ron, and just like that, the tense atmosphere was broken. Hermione looked over at them.

"Seeing as you've finally sorted through your problems," she said, "here, you can have a look at this." She put her hand inside her bag and pulled out a twenty-pence piece.

**"Weird! What a shape! This is money?" **asked Ron, looking at it with fascination. After a few minutes (during which Harry continued to chip away at the ever-decreasing pile of Chocolate Frogs), Hermione took it back.

"Sorry," she said.

"Never mind," said Ron. "It's not like I'd get a chance to use it."

Harry was now examining a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

**"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a bogie-flavored one once."**

**Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.**

**"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."**

**They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. **Hermione picked up her own packet of beans, and started trying them. Some, she ate - sausage, fish, cranberry and lobster, and others (farm dirt, tripe and phlegm) she merely nibbled off the corner and put them with the rest of the rubbish. Certain others she just put back inside the packet.

"Why'd you do that for?" asked Ron.

"Not sure about you, but I don't want to eat phlegm flavoured beans! Why do they make them anyway?" said Hermione. Ron shrugged at her, then picked up his own packet and took out the first one, only to be stopped from eating it by Hermione.

"Ron, don't eat that, that's glue!" she admonished him. Ron, disbelieving, ate it anyway, then choked.

"How did you know that?" he said. "Bloody hell Harry, she knows everything! **How is it she knows everything?**"

Hermione smiled, and continued to spot the unpleasant beans, and the packet of unwanted beans grew more and more full. Just as the packet had completely filled up, the compartment door opened for the third time, and a young, round-faced boy came in. He looked tearful.

**"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"**

"I'm afraid we haven't," said Hermione kindly. The boy **wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"**

"Do you want me to help look?" said Hermione. The boy nodded, still tearful, and the two of them left the compartment.

**"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."**

**The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.**

**"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."**

**He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. "Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway**, here goes:

**_"Sunshine, daisies, Butter mellow,_**

**_Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"_**

Ron waved his wand and there was a loud bang. Scabbers screeched, the Fudge Flies fell off Ron's lap and somewhere under the seat there was a loud croak. A toad hopped out and then went over to the Fudge Flies, which he started to eat.

"Oi! Those are Scabbers's Fudge Flies!" Ron picked up the toad.

"Hey, isn't that that boy's toad?" asked Harry. Without waiting for an answer, he got up, opened the compartment door and yelled, "HEY, HERMIONE! WE FOUND THE TOAD!"

Ron looked glumly down at Scabbers, who had - predictably - gone back to sleep. Then he looked over to the seat next to him, where the photograph of Dumbledore was laughing.

"Even Dumbledore's laughing at me," said Ron. "George gave me the spell, bet he knew it was a dud."

Harry looked down at Dumbledore, but Dumbledore wasn't laughing anymore. Instead, he had pulled out a quill and was writing.

"Ron, look! Dumbledore's writing something!" exclaimed Harry, and Ron looked over. Dumbledore finishing writing with a flourish, and held up the piece of parchment, which read 'Colovaria'. "Do you think it's a spell?"

"Who knows?" asked Ron. He picked up his wand, pointed it at Scabbers, twirled it around and said, "Colovaria!" Scabbers turned a particularly bright shade of red. At that moment, Hermione and the boy entered the compartment. "Trevor!" the boy exclaimed gratefully, and picked up the toad from Harry's hands. "Thanks -"

"Harry," said Harry. The boy looked at him carefully for a moment before replying.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," said the boy. "Not Harry Potter, surely?"

"Yep, that's me," Harry replied.

"I thought you were meant to be eight feet tall," said Neville. "Are the books wrong, then?" Harry sighed despairingly.

"Ron, are people going to be asking me this all journey?"

"Afraid so - well everyone from wizarding families, at least. Not Muggle-borns - they won't have read the books. But practically every wizarding family has a copy - you saw how that blond boy reacted."

"So you really are Harry Potter, then?" asked Neville. "What about the scar, is that real?"

"Yes, that bit's true."

"Should I let people know about this?"

"No, don't bother," said Harry. "Apart from the trolley lady and you, the only other person who's come in here is some blond ponce, who insulted all of us."

"You mean Malfoy?" asked Neville.

"Who?" This came from Harry, who vaguely recognised the name from one of his textbooks.

"Must be Lucius Malfoy's son," said Ron. **"I've heard of his family, they were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."**

"My gran agrees," said Neville. "Malfoy Junior is just the same, treating everyone as though they were beneath him."

"He did the same here," said Ron darkly. "He called Hermione a Mudblood. I didn't want to bring it up earlier - we were laughing and eating, but **it's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born - you know, non-magic parents. Some wizards - like the Malfoys - think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood - that's having. The rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all."**

"How did he know, though?" asked Hermione, frowning. "That my parents were Muggles, I mean. I didn't mention that at all. Unless we look different - do we look different?"

"No, you can't tell by looking. In fact, you can't tell by anything apart from records," replied Ron. "You don't want to look like him anyway. I'm not actually sure how, though it was probably because you 'admitted' to him you didn't know what Harry Potter looked like."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "There must be other wizards or witches who grew up with Muggles?"

"Apart from Muggle-borns, no, it's never happened before," said Ron. "There was quite a bit of debate when Dumbledore announced he'd placed you with Muggles, according to Dad - loads of people objected to it. Course, when they all turned out to be Death Eaters, that calmed things down a bit, but it hadn't been done before, and it's never been done since."

"Dumbledore placed me with the Dursleys?" asked Harry. "Who put him in charge?"

"He's Chief Warlock," said Ron, "so he's got a lot of power."

"Dumbledore's crazy," said Harry bluntly. "I suppose I could have grown up like Malfoy - but Dumbledore's crazy."

All four of them left it at that.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville continued to swap stories and share out the remainder of the sweets. Hermione was quite horrified when Neville recounted an incident where he'd been pushed off Blackpool Pier, and Neville had been intrigued to hear of Harry's, let's say unique, last few years. Perhaps the most amusing incident had been when Hermione had asked Ron exactly what spell he'd used to turn Scabbers red. Ron had gone pink, lowered his head and muttered that he'd found it on a Chocolate Frog Card, his eyes straying over to where Dumbledore had propped the piece of parchment against the frame of the photograph. Hermione did not miss this. She picked up the Dumbledore card, and read the spell on it. Then she turned to Harry, who had a rather large pile of Chocolate Frog Cards next to him.

"Give me those," she said, a manic gleam in her eyes, "now."

Harry had never handed anything over so quickly. Ron laughed at this - until Hermione discovered that Hengist of Woodcroft was hiding a Lip-Sealing Jinx up his arm, after which he didn't make any noise at all.

They only had one other visit during the journey - a visit from Ron's brothers Fred and George, who had come to see how he was doing.

"So hello, little brother," said one of them.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" asked the other. Ron attempted to unseal his lips, but was unsuccessful. Fred and George grew identical, wicked grins.

"Looks like Ickle Ronnikins has been jinxed already. Aah," said the second one.

"Indeed, the attitude of young children these days, dear brother. And what is your name, fair maiden?" asked the first one. Hermione glared at them. Harry spoke up, though.

"So you must be Ron's brothers Fred and George, then? That's Neville Longbottom, the angry one over there is Hermione Granger and I'm Harry Potter."

"Nice try, little firstie - but you don't look like him at all. You'll need more preparation to prank us!" Harry looked helplessly over at the other three. Ron made a rude hand gesture, which was completely ignored. Hermione sat with her hands stubbornly on her lap. Neville attempted to explain.

"Actually, the books are all wrong," he said. Fred and George looked down at him. Neville looked up at them. Harry looked desperately at Hermione, who after a few seconds, relented and unsealed Ron's lips.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Yeah, don't listen to what those books say," said Ron. Fred and George looked at him, then over at Harry.

"So if you are Harry Potter -"

"Yes, and that's a big if -"

"Do you have the scar?"

"Well, why should I show you? Perhaps you should find out at the sorting with everyone else," said Harry cheekily. "Look, just take a box of Bertie Botts, and go."

Fred and George took the box he was offering them warily. George took out his wand and waved it over the sweets, but nothing happened. He handed it to Fred, who looked at it suspiciously, before doing the same. When he had finished, they shrugged and walked off with it.

"Bye, Ron!"

"Bye, possibly Harry Potter!"

Ron crossed the room, peered out into the corridor then sat down. He was smiling.

"I don't think anyone's ever pranked Fred and George," he said. "What was in there, Hermione?"

"Seven earthworms, five grasses, two rotten eggs, four soaps, three farm dirts and a dirty sock. You shouldn't have done that, Harry!"

"Yes he should," chortled Ron. "That was bloody brilliant!" Neville looked perplexed.

"How do you know what was in there?"

"Hermione can tell what the Bertie Botts flavours are going to be. I don't know how, but she can, and she took out all the nasty ones out and put them in that box. It's scary how she does it - she's probably going to be a Ravenclaw."

"What's Ravenclaw?" asked Harry.

"It's one of the four school houses. When we get to Hogwarts, they're going to sort us into one of four houses - Ravenclaw's for clever people. Hufflepuff's supposed to be for loyal, hard working people, Gryffindor's for the brave and courageous and Slytherin's for evil people."

"Ron!"

"Well it is! There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't from Slytherin! You-Know-Who was in there."

"Slytherin's a house for cunning and ambition, I can't see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being anywhere else," said Hermione. "They can't all be evil, Ron, or they'd be expelled!"

"OK, maybe they aren't all evil little gits, but people like Malfoy tend to end up there," Ron replied. "I bet you anything he'll be in Slytherin."

"So what house do you all want to be in?" asked Hermione. "Gryffindor does sound the best, although Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"Gryffindor," said Ron without hesitation. "My whole family have been there. I don't know what they'd say if I'm not. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, but imagine if I end up in Slytherin."

"That's awful!" said Hermione. "You shouldn't have to live up to your family's expectations - although I can see you being in Gryffindor. What about you, Neville?"

"My gran expects me to be in Gryffindor, but I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff," said Neville. "I'm just not brave enough to be in Gryffindor."

"Nonsense," said Harry. "You stood up for me when Fred and George came in!"

"But standing up for people is a Hufflepuff trait," said Neville.

"It's a Gryffindor trait too," said Harry. "Anyway, Hufflepuff won't be that bad. I'll probably end up in Slytherin, if it's really the house of sneaky people."

"Nah, Fred and George didn't end up there, so you won't. Besides, you defeated You-Know-Who!" exclaimed Ron.

"I was just a baby when that happened, though," replied Harry.

"Fair enough. I guess if you don't want to be in Slytherin but you end up there anyway, we can't blame you," said Ron.

Harry looked out of the window to see Inverness Castle and that the East Coast Main Line had disappeared. "I think we'll be arriving soon, I guess we'd better change," he indicated to Ron and Hermione. Hermione took her robes from her trunk and left the room to change in the bathroom at the end of the train, while Ron and Harry changed in the compartment. Harry's guess was pretty accurate, and not five minutes after they'd changed, an announcement echoed through the train.

**"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."**

Sure enough, the train pulled into what appeared to be Hogsmeade Station, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville fought their way out. Harry looked left and right along the platform for a sign about where to go, and sure enough, at one end of the platform, there was Hagrid.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" he shouted, and the four of them made their way over to him. "All right there, Harry? **C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"**

**Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.**

**"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."**

**There was a loud "Oooooh!" The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.**

**"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. **Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione took a boat to themselves.** "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.**

**"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. They then clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.**

**"Everyone here?" asked Hagrid. He then raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.**

* * *

Deleted Scene - just for you!

So I cut these lines from the chapter. It comes when Neville turns up for his toad - in the original chapter, Neville goes away to look for Trevor himself, but pretty much immediately I realised that Hermione goes off and helps him. Of course she does, that's how she meets Harry and Ron in canon! That therefore had to be preserved, which meant this had to be cut.

**"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"**

"I'm afraid we haven't," said Hermione kindly. The boy **wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"**

"Well, hope you find him," said Harry. "Here, have a packet of Droobles!" He handed the packet to Neville, who took it and left the compartment.

Just outside, Neville looked down at the packet of Droobles Best Blowing Gum. A tear came to his eye.

* * *

And some more deleted lines:

"That's three earthworms in a row!"

"Gred, I do believe we have been pranked."

"Indeed we have, Forge. This means revenge."

* * *

Anyone who has used the rail system in the UK knows that the food you can buy in the stations is pretty much limited to soft drinks, coffee, tea, pasties and confectionery. Suffice to say that Harry has had quite a few pasties in his time, and is quite the connoisseur. Hermione would buy the liquorice wand because her parents are dentists and it's a safe option. I've always imagined liquorice wands to be made of liquorice wood, as opposed to the Liquorice Allsorts variety.

Actually cross-referencing with Philosopher's Stone reveals that Ron does a lot of staring and Hermione does a lot of frowning.

Yes, Neville turns up to pick up Trevor, and decides to hang around without any explanation. Yes, Neville has already met Draco Malfoy, probably earlier on the trip. Yes, Hermione is that observant in canon - just read about her in HBP Potions.

As for why Harry's OK with Dumbledore leaving him with the Dursleys - he sees Dumbledore as a crazy old man, not an all-powerful wizard or an evil manipulative chessmaster because he first encountered Dumbledore on a crowded tube train, not through his considerable reputation. Crazy old men should not be given power, because they tend to make mistakes.

Reviews, please!


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, because that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, because that belongs to me. I do not own any characters or places you recognise from anywhere that isn't the last three chapters. And fat lot of financial good anything you do recognise as mine will do me.

Any text in bold is property of J. K. Rowling, or maybe property of Steve Kloves if I like the line, and I use text from them because quite frankly they can write better than I can and those parts of the story remain unchanged. In fact, much of this chapter is ceremony, official speeches, and introductions that would remain the same, so much of it does remain the same.

Summary: Harry Potter has just spent the last four years of his life on the London Underground. He learns to hide, to charm, and never to miss his train. I don't know why I'm writing a summary here, you should already have read the last three chapters. If you haven't, go back and read them. This is an AU, although Canon!Harry displays many of London Underground!Harry's traits. In the books, apart from flying, the train is the only means of wizarding transport that he likes. In the movies, he actually admits to enjoying riding around on trains. Actually, I seem to have a pretty substantial case for passing this off as a Canon-ish!Harry (much more than Dramione, that's for sure), but I won't bother, because I want it to diverge.

Whirlwind00's review reply: I don't know either. Trust me, I surprise myself every time a scene comes out. It seems to write itself.

* * *

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony, or Hogwarts 65 Varieties

It is a little known fact, due to the impressive ability of all human beings, wizarding or not, to ignore what is right in front of them, that before each Sorting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry there are three absent teachers, instead of as widely believed, two.

One of these is the groundskeeper. His or her job is to take the first years from the station down the path to the lake, and then across the lake in little boats. He or she does this to maintain tradition, which is another way of saying "for no reason at all".

The second of these is the Deputy Head. His or her job is to take the first years from the groundskeeper at the point where the grounds meet the school, and stuff them in a little room for a period of five minutes. He or she then returns to collect them and bring them to be Sorted. This is to make sure they are apprehensive, so their minds can be more easily read by the Sorting Hat.

The third of these is the Music Master. His or her job is to write the music for the Sorting Hat's song, and bring it to the Hat. The Hat then fits the words to the music. He is also in charge of the Toad Choir, though that is a more recent development.

These three individuals, along with the Headmaster (or Headmistress) are the four core individuals behind the school teaching staff, and it is said that when all four individuals work in harmony with each other, then the School will flourish. Very few know about this millennium old tradition.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore is one of these very few people. His team of four: himself, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid and Music Master Filius Flitwick. After three wizarding wars, these are the only three people he truly trusts, although there are others who he can rely on.

The other Hogwarts teachers do not understand this. Pomona Sprout is Head of Hufflepuff, so she does not mind. Sybil Trelawney, the Divination Professor likes to pretend that she does. Poppy Pomfrey, the school healer does not care for internal politics. Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, ex-Death Eater and ex-Spy resents this.

Other people across the Wizarding World treat this small, elite circle as one of the many oddities of Albus Dumbledore. I am telling you this so that you might understand better. This knowledge may never come in useful. But then again, it might.

Now, on with the story.

* * *

**The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.**

**"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.**

**"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."**

She pulled the door wide to reveal an entrance hall so large that half of King's Cross Station could have fit inside - certainly it could have contained a couple of houses.** The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.**

**"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."**

**Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.**

**"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."**

**She left the chamber. **Immediately, all the children burst into quiet, worried conversation. Harry swallowed, and turned to Ron.

**"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked.**

**"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."**

A test? thought Harry. In front of the whole school? That couldn't be right, he didn't know any magic yet. Well, he knew one spell, "Colovaria". He dug his hand into his pocket but came across nothing. He looked around himself at everyone else, bitterly wishing he'd looked at the other Chocolate Frog cards. He looked over to Hermione on his other side, who had, but she** was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. **Harry tried to catch something she was saying, but she was speaking too fast. He thought desperately back to what he'd been told about the houses, and about bravery, loyalty and ambition. He looked over to Draco Malfoy, who was muttering to a pug-faced girl standing beside him. Evidently he hadn't been told either, thought Harry. He then turned to look at Neville, who was clutching Trevor so tightly that the toad's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. **Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.**

**Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air - several people behind him screamed. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"**

**"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"**

**A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.**

**"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"**

**A few people nodded mutely.**

**"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."**

**"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."**

**Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.**

**"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."**

Harry stepped into line behind Neville and Hermione, and Ron followed him. **They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.**

As Professor McGonagall led Harry and the other first years up the aisle, many of them (Harry included) gazed in wonder at their surroundings - mainly at the candles floating above them, and the starry ceiling. Hermione whispered, **"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."**

When Professor McGonagall reached the front, she placed a four legged stool on the ground. A tiny little wizard emerged from a side chamber, bringing a pointed wizard's hat about half his size and placed it reverently on the stool. **This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. **The wizard then scuttled off to his seat. **Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, Harry stared at it too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:**

**"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,**

**But don't judge on what you see,**

**I'll eat myself if you can find**

**A smarter hat than me.**

**You can keep your bowlers black,**

**Your top hats sleek and tall,**

**For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat**

**And I can cap them all.**

**There's nothing hidden in your head**

**The Sorting Hat can't see,**

**So try me on and I will tell you**

**Where you ought to be.**

**You might belong in Gryffindor,**

**Where dwell the brave at heart,**

**Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,**

**Set Gryffindors apart;**

**You might belong in Hufflepuff,**

**Where they are just and loyal,**

**Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,**

**And unafraid of toil;**

**Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,**

**If you've a ready mind,**

**Where those of wit and learning,**

**Will always find their kind;**

**Or perhaps in Slytherin**

**You'll make your real friends,**

**Those cunning folk use any means**

**To achieve their ends.**

**So put me on! Don't be afraid!**

**And don't get in a flap!**

**You're in safe hands (though I have none)**

**For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**

**The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.**

**"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."**

Harry felt relieved. Trying on the hat was a lot better than doing a spell! It would have been a lot better, though, if he'd been able to try it on when nobody was watching. Now that he was actually there, any bravery, intelligence or sneakiness he'd had in the last few hours had just disappeared and had been replaced with a churning inside him.

**Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.**

**"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"**

**A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down.** Harry felt for the poor girl - being first in the alphabet was always horrible. **A moments pause -**

**"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.**

**"Bones, Susan!"**

**"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.**

**"Boot, Terry!"**

**"RAVENCLAW!"**

**The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.**

**"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.**

**"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. **The table second from the right applauded. Harry looked over at them. Many of them had an aristocratic air of indifference on their faces. Those who didn't tended to be big, hulking and stupid-looking. Harry looked away as "Corner, Michael" became a Ravenclaw.

The list continued.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Goldstein, Anthony!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Goyle, Gregory!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione ran straight to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head. It sat there for quite a while, and Harry wondered what was taking it so long. Then he thought about Hermione's intellect, and groaned. The hat had probably been overloaded, he thought - and just as he'd come to that conclusion...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Yep, the hat had definitely been overloaded.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Or maybe not. Daphne Greengrass definitely looked like the other Slytherins - indifferent.

The list went on, and Harry was starting to regret feeling sorry for Hannah Abbott. The waiting was surely worse than being first in line, he thought, glaring at Hannah, who didn't notice at all.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville almost tripped over on his way to the stool. The hat took an extremely long time with Neville, but eventually decided on:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville ran off still wearing the hat, and had to jog back to hand it to "MacDougal, Morag" (a Ravenclaw).

"Macmillan, Ernie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco Malfoy swaggered over to the stool - the hat barely touched him when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Ron thought this was a foregone conclusion. Harry, looking at the other Slytherins, was not so sure - until he considered the other three houses.

"Moon, Lily!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Nott, Theodore!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Patil, Parvati!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Just goes to show, you can't judge by appearance alone - thought Harry as Sally-Anne Perks, a meek-looking bespectacled girl walked purposefully over to the Slytherin table.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward towards the hat, his legs feeling like lead, and every step he took was accompanied by murmurs from the crowd behind him. Occasionally one of the voices would do more than murmur, and he could hear exactly what they were thinking behind him.

'Potter, did she say?'

'That's not Harry Potter!'

'Does he have the scar?'

As Harry turned round and the hat dropped onto his head, he caught a glimpse of the faces of the whole hall. Most of them looked disbelieving, though some looked accepting. One or two looked hostile - but that was all he caught before the hat dropped onto his head and all he saw was darkness.

"Hmm," said a voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage here. There's talent, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself... but where to put you?"

"So do you take suggestions? Or are you just going to offer me all the houses, then pick one at random? Because you haven't offered me Hufflepuff yet."

"Of course I take suggestions! So, Hufflepuff, then? Are you sure?"

"No!"

"Well, if you'd like me to pick, Slytherin has some empty space, and with your attitude so far..."

"Not Slytherin! Do I look like a Slytherin?"

"Look, do you want me to take suggestions or not? Merlin, I've had enough of these first years with attitude! First Miss Granger has to ask me about all the interesting people I've spoken to for the last thousand years, and then has the gall to tell me not to put her into Ravenclaw. Then Mr. Longbottom doesn't want to go to Hufflepuff, but doesn't really want to go to Gryffindor either. I had to choose for him and he fought me all the way! Now you. I'm going to put you into Gryffindor, because that's where you belong, you pig-headed, stubborn little boy!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

There was silence inside the hat. More murmuring filtered through from the outside. Then, Harry spoke again.

"Are you always like this?"

"No. I picked this up from you."

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it."

"Should I expect the same from Mr. Weasley as well?"

"Just put him into Gryffindor with the rest of us, and it should be no trouble."

"That's what they all say, but I'm the one who has to sort through their heads."

"Well, don't let him put you on then!"

"I can't do that!"

"Yes you can!"

"It breaks tradition!"

"Who cares about tradition?"

This was the wrong thing to say, or in this case think.

"GO TO GRYFFINDOR RIGHT NOW, AND STAY THERE! AND DON'T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN MR. POTTER, YOU HEAR ME?"

These last words were shouted out across the hall, and for the first time since Harry's name was called out, there was silence across the room. After a few seconds, Harry lifted the hat off his head and placed it on the stool. Then he straightened up and walked shakily over to the Gryffindor table, where only Fred and George Weasley were clapping. He took a seat across from Neville and Hermione; the latter looked at him disapprovingly, but remained silent. He looked up at the High Table. Hagrid gave him the thumbs up, but he was the only one - most teachers looked surprised, and a wizard with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin was looking at him with utter loathing. Dumbledore, however, smiled at him slightly, and Harry felt slightly better.

Nobody who was in the room at that moment ever doubted that he was Harry Potter again.

Professor McGonagall composed herself, and called out,

"Roper, Sophie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The list went on, past "Thomas, Dean", who turned out to be a Gryffindor, "Turpin, Lisa", a Ravenclaw, and then there were only two students left.

"Weasley, Ronald!" called out Professor McGonagall. Ron stepped out to take his place on the stool, but the Hat spoke out before Professor McGonagall could even move it.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall looked down at it in puzzlement. The Hat looked up at her. Ron looked at the Hat, then up at Professor McGonagall, then he walked off to the Gryffindor table, who belatedly started applauding, Harry and the Weasleys foremost among them. Finally, when "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into Slytherin, the tiny little wizard stepped out again, picked up the Hat and walked it away.

**Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.**

**"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"**

Harry clapped and cheered along with most of the rest of the school. Hermione frowned at Dumbledore.

"See, I told you he was crazy," said Harry. This had no effect besides redirecting her frown to him - but the frown soon disappeared when the four tables started to overflow with food. Ron immediately started eating, as if he hadn't just eaten several packets of Chocolate Frogs, a few Pumpkin Pasties and a couple of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. Neville took some food too. Hermione, however, was not to be distracted for long.

"Why was the Sorting Hat mad at you?" she asked.

"Hey, it wasn't just me! It was pretty mad at you too!" Hermione looked nonplussed. Harry explained.

"The Sorting Hat didn't like my attitude, and he wasn't too fond of yours either. Apparently you asked him about all the interesting people he'd ever seen over the last thousand years, and then asked him not to put you in Gryffindor." Hermione went pink at this. "You weren't the only one - he was pretty mad at Neville, too. He asked me whether he should expect the same from Ron."

Hermione looked over at Ron, then back to Harry, comprehension dawning on her face. "So _that's _why he was sorted so quickly!" Now that she'd cleared the weight off her mind, Hermione found she was hungry, and tucked in. Harry had a look around himself at piles of roast beef, steak, roast chicken, lamb chops, Yorkshire puddings and many other things. Not wanting to miss out, he took a bit of it all, except for a bowl of peppermint humbugs, which he left alone.

Down the table, Neville was talking with Seamus and Dean, the other two Gryffindor first year boys about their respective families.

**"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."**

"Hello," said a voice from behind him. Harry dropped his lamb chop and turned around to see the ghost in the ruff smiling at him.

"Hello," said Harry. "Who are you?"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Resident Ghost of Gryffindor Tower, at your service."

"I know you!" shouted Ron. "You're Nearly Headless Nick - I've heard of you!"

**"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.**

**"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"**

**Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.**

**"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."**

**Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.**

**"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.**

**"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.**

About three quarters of an hour after the food had appeared, it disappeared and was instantly replaced by the desserts - apple pies, jelly (A/N that's Jell-O for you denizens of the USA), trifle, rice pudding, treacle tarts and the ice-cream.

The ice-cream.

There is a gripping story behind the 65 varieties of ice-cream served at Hogwarts, but it is not this one.

Harry helped himself to some treacle tart and a few scoops of a mysterious purple-ish ice-cream. It tasted better than any ice-cream he'd had before. Ron, of course, took a lot of everything. Hermione was not too interested in dessert, and was talking about lessons to anyone who would listen (this was the grand total of Percy Weasley and everyone in Ravenclaw within hearing range - the Ravenclaw table was just behind them). Harry looked up at the High Table. Professor Quirrell, a pale young man that Harry had met in the Leaky Cauldron pub on Charing Cross Road, was now sporting an enormous purple turban. Perhaps he had bought it in Diagon Alley, thought Harry sleepily. His eyes moved off Professor Quirrell over to the greasy-haired wizard next to him.

**It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.**

**"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.**

**"What is it?" asked Percy.**

**"N-nothing."**

**The pain had gone as quickly as it had come.**

**"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.**

**"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."**

Harry wasn't sure what the Dark Arts were, but they sounded bad, so he left it at that. Then he checked himself - he was starting to think like a wizard! A moment later, he relaxed - they had a class to defend against them, so they had to be bad. Snape did not look at him again.

When the desserts were finally finished (although Harry felt he could probably have more treacle tart), **Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.**

**"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."**

**"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."**

**Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.**

**"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.**

**"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.**

**"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."**

**Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.**

**"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.**

**"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."**

**"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.**

**"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:**

**"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,**

**Teach us something please,**

**Whether we be old and bald**

**Or young with scabby knees,**

**Our heads could do with filling**

**With some interesting stuff,**

**For now they're bare and full of air,**

**Dead flies and bits of fluff,**

**So teach us things worth knowing,**

**Bring back what we've forgot,**

**just do your best, we'll do the rest,**

**And learn until our brains all rot.**

**Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.**

**"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"**

The Gryffindor first years got to their feet and followed Percy out of the Great Hall. They climbed the marble staircase, walked down corridors lined with portraits and dragged their feet up even more stairs. They jumped trick stairs, walked through doors that appeared to be solid wall and ducked underneath tapestries. They broke most of the Health and Safety rules in Muggle Britain. Finally, as they stepped onto a corridor that actually looked normal, they had to fight their way past Peeves, the school poltergeist, before climbing through a portrait hole - not stepping, climbing - after giving a password (Caput Draconis). Then they climbed even more stairs to find their beds - four-posters with red, velvet curtains - and their trunks, which had been brought up for them.

Harry was silently thankful, as he pulled on pyjamas, that the trunks had been brought up. That was the last thing he thought before he fell asleep.

* * *

On his first night in Hogwarts, Dean Thomas slept well. Hogwarts at night is quite a quiet place, despite all its quirks and oddities - certainly much more so than in Redbridge, with traffic on the North Circular roaring overhead at all hours. His night was almost free of dreams, with just one short fragment about Stuart Slater, a West Ham midfielder, waving a paintbrush.

* * *

On his first night in Hogwarts, Seamus Finnigan slept deeply. Hogwarts contained no arguing parents, and the journey from Ireland to Hogwarts is always taxing for those who are unable to Apparate. His night was completely free of dreams.

* * *

On his first night in Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom slept badly. No child with his self-confidence issues would sleep well on their first night in Hogwarts, and Neville was no exception. Wondering whether classes would be a total disaster, and perhaps slightly overawed by the confidently short Harry Potter he'd met, he tossed about fitfully, with nightmares of the Sorting Hat's proclamations going wrong. Trevor attempted to break for freedom, but was stopped by the closed door of the dormitory.

* * *

On his first night in Hogwarts, Ron Weasley slept loudly. His self-confidence issues had been almost solved - the quietly confident Harry Potter had caused him to forget his money issues, he'd successfully cast his first spell and made good friends. His dreams were mainly filled with chess knights and bishops dining on strange and mysterious dishes in the Great Hall.

* * *

On his first night in Hogwarts, Harry Potter slept quietly. That was not to say that he did not dream. In fact, he did, and it was particularly vivid and strange.

Harry dreamed that he was Snape, sitting at the High Table to the right of Professor McGonagall and surveying the Great Hall down his long, hooked nose, watching Harry's Sorting. In his dream, he could hear the Sorting Hat arguing with him, and it was telling him to switch to Slytherin. Then the dream changed. He was Hermione, sitting under the Hat, and it was chastising him, or her as it was, for asking questions. Then the dream changed.

Harry dreamed he was Uncle Vernon, a person he hadn't thought of in a while, and he was being Sorted under Professor Quirrell's turban, and berating the watching eyes of the School for being freaks. And then the dream changed for the final time.

He was sitting in a crib, his hands glowing a harsh green colour. A man in a hood and black robes was collapsing in front of him, and around him the house was burning. Then the burning house transformed into a metal tube, with wooden escalators - the inside of King's Cross St Pancras tube station. A scream echoed around him, but it was not the scream of a burning commuter.

It was the scream of a woman.

Harry woke up with a jolt and looked around him - he was momentarily disorientated by the red velvet curtains, but fell back to sleep within a minute.

**When he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.**

* * *

This chapter was quite full of canon dialogue, because the Sorting Ceremony is a ceremony, and as such I cannot really change it and account for my changes. And trust me, almost every change has a reason behind it. Anyway, Harry hasn't changed that much! I promise that the next chapter will have new dialogue at least, and probably some new people. That said, I hope you liked the start and end of it.

I've always felt that fanfiction writers, tainted with foreknowledge of almost everything (from blood purity to Deathly Hallows to prophecies) tend to downplay exactly what a magical place Hogwarts is, and I shall try not to do this. Please, by all means let me know if I am.

There is indeed a story behind the 65 varieties of ice-cream, and it is more than just accident, I assure you.

Right, now I have to write a Snape who's actually got some justification for believing Harry is arrogant and unteachable. Harry had better read his books! IF YOU'RE READING THIS DURING YOUR FIRST WEEK AT HOGWARTS THROUGH SOME MIRACULOUS TIME TRAVEL, HARRY POTTER, YOU'D BETTER REVISE FOR POTIONS!

Reviews would be more than Welcome, they would be Wilkommen.


	5. Chapter 5: The Potions Disaster

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express, these belong to J. K. Rowling. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, because that belongs to me. I do not own anything else in this chapter, except most of the dialogue.

Any text in bold is the property of J. K. Rowling, or perhaps it is from the Steve Kloves screenplay. I lift text because it sounds good, because the characters cannot conceivably say anything else, or because I like it.

Summary: Harry Potter grows up on the London Underground. Yes, it's this story, the one with all the trains in it - to my knowledge, this is the only one of its kind. If you need a reminder of what else to expect, read the first four chapters. The Scarred Man and the A Stock is also suggested. That said, if you don't read it, you'll probably be fine.

Author's Note: 19 alerts! That's really exciting. I've never had an alert before writing this. And somebody has put The Scarred Man and the A Stock on alert, which is odd because it's a completed one-shot. The sentiment is appreciated!

In terms of reviews, I've got 12, which just goes to show that normal fanfiction is better than crossovers (I got 7 in the space of three years). And I haven't had a flame yet, which is good because Harry doesn't much like fire.

* * *

Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 5: The Potions Disaster, or Secrets of the Greenhouses

"There, look!"

"Over there!"

"Where?"

"With the glasses!"

"Next to the bushy-haired girl and the ginger kid."

"Did you see him at the Sorting?"

"Did you see his scar?"

This is only a fraction of the things that Harry heard people say on his first day. As he made his way down to breakfast, other students (mostly Ravenclaws) peered around corners at him, and the only thing that seemed to send them away was Hermione's not-yet-infamous glare. Hermione said she didn't want to use it too often, though, because then everyone would get used to it.

"My sister uses the Bat-Bogey Hex often enough on us, and we haven't got used to it," said Ron. Hermione turned to look at him with interest.

"What's the Bat-Bogey Hex?" asked Harry, also turning to look at Ron. Ron winced.

"It makes giant flapping bogeys come out of your nose, and it's bloody painful," he said.

"Language, Ron! What's the incantation?" she asked, with the same interest marked across her face. Ron winced again.

"Chiroptera Mucosa, but I don't know the wand movement. Mum never taught us any hexes, said it was too dangerous," he said. Hermione looked confused for a moment, then comprehension dawned across her face.

"Ron, what was the Chocolate Frog Card you say you didn't have?"

"Agrippa. It's really annoying, because Ginny's had one forever, and she found another one last year but she won't trade it for anything..." Ron stopped. "You don't think..."

"I'm afraid so," said Hermione. Two Ravenclaws were whispering ahead and glancing over at Harry. Hermione glared at them, and they scarpered.

"Hermione, those had to be fourth years! You're scary, do you know that?"

* * *

At breakfast, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the other first years were brought their timetables by Professor McGonagall, and were soon off to their first class, Herbology, which was held in the school greenhouses by a **dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout**. There are seven greenhouses at Hogwarts - for pure convenience, not because seven is the most powerful magical number. Greenhouse Seven is used by seventh years doing NEWT coursework. Greenhouse Six is usually empty, but in the summer of 1991 was briefly home to a rather large tray full of Devil's Snare. Greenhouses Four and Five are the property of Professors Snape and Sprout respectively. Greenhouse Three is one of the student greenhouses, and houses all the more dangerous plants that students study.

Greenhouse Two is an interesting case. Prior to 1953, Hogwarts Greenhouse Two was in regular use by second to fifth years, but due to an accident involving asphodel, undiluted Bubotuber Pus, a pint of mulled mead and Karl Broadmoor, later to become star beater for the Falmouth Falcons, the greenhouse has been filled with a murky yellowish-brown smoke ever since. The smoke has not yet been cleared, and the only people who have been in since (with Bubble-Head Charms and Impervius Charms applied) are people serving detentions - their job is to attempt to clear the smoke, and after thirty-eight years, not much has gone.

Greenhouse One, of course, is the other student greenhouse, containing the magically harmless/non-magical plants, and it is where our protagonists were headed on that lovely, sunny morning.

"Welcome to Herbology, first years!" said Professor Sprout. "Herbology, as you may know, is the study of the interaction between magic and plants. Primarily, of course, we study magical plants, but we also cover non-magical plants that are used in potions and rituals. Can anyone tell me any non-magical plants used in potions?"

Several hands shot up around the room. Professor Sprout started calling them out, and Harry's first lesson began. It was surprisingly interesting, though probably quite painful, thought Harry as Hermione scribbled down notes at breakneck speed beside him and Ron put his quill down while Professor Sprout explained about the magical properties of nettles. He hadn't seen much of plants since he'd left the Dursleys, but he remembered nettles well. Too well, he thought, as he rubbed the back of his hand absent-mindedly.

Surprisingly, when they got down to drying the nettles it was Neville who was best at the drying spell. Hermione, of course, came in a close second. Harry got the spell just after Ron, but this was by no means bad - the prize for worst had to go to Seamus Finnigan, who had overpowered the spell. His nettles were smoking slightly, and Professor Sprout removed them with a pair of thick gloves. Harry looked worriedly at them, but Professor Sprout dumped them into a tub of water.

"Drying spells aren't supposed to do that, are they?" asked Hermione.

"They probably do if you overpower them," said Ron. "Mum likes to use that spell - she says it's very good for lightly toasting bread." Hermione, Harry was amused to see, wrote this down as well.

Professor Sprout came round the class at the end and graded everyone's nettles, then she dismissed them.

"If your nettles are graded E or O, you may take them to use in potions," she said. Harry picked up a few of his own gingerly. They did not sting, so he took some more, and put them inside a pouch inside his bag (which he had bought at the Apothecary). Ron took his entire pile, then asked Neville for some of the ones he'd left.

For a first lesson in magic, reflected Harry, that hadn't been too bad. At least, not for him, he corrected himself, as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil strode past the three of them, the latter rubbing her hand.

* * *

After Herbology, there was a quick break before History of Magic, which was on the first floor. Of course, Hogwarts being the improbable maze that it was, you had to go up to the fourth floor up a rickety side staircase, through a door pretending to be solid wall and down the Slide of Sorcerous Stone. Luckily, Percy Weasley had been passing through the Entrance Hall, and had told Ron where to go - or they would probably have taken several wrong turns and been very late. As it was, they took a wrong turning on the third floor, and Professor Quirrell had had to set them straight.

The textbook (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) had been pretty difficult to plough through, but Harry had managed it - he had even named his owl, Hedwig after one of the Norwegian Grand Sorceresses who had helped implement the Statute of Secrecy. Harry had hoped that the teacher would shed some light on the book.

About three seconds into the lesson, Harry realised that there was no hope of that.

Another three minutes into the lesson, Harry was beginning to doubt that he would pass the class. More importantly, he was beginning to doubt his ability to stay awake for the whole lesson.

Five minutes in, Harry realised he wouldn't be able to stay awake for the entire lesson.

Seven minutes in, Ron gave up trying to concentrate, and slumped forward.

Eleven minutes in, Harry's brain finally gave up, and he knew no more.

Fifteen minutes in, Professor Binns read the same sentence twice. Hermione, who had no trouble listening to him, did a double take. Professor Binns droned on.

Around twenty five minutes into the lesson, even Hermione was starting to be affected by the monotonous tones coming out of the ghostly figure, but continued to note down the vital information about the Bloody Battle of 1296 between Uric the Oddball and Gotrod the Malevolent.

Twenty minutes from the end, Harry awoke from his semi-slumber and was able to note down a bit of important information about the heroic actions of Modestus Peverell. Then, noticing that Hermione was the only human being awake in the classroom, he copied down whatever looked important from what she had written - this was, of course, the highlighted bits. Hermione noticed this, but was too busy trying to concentrate, so let it slide.

Fifteen minutes from the end, Harry dropped back into oblivion.

Four minutes from the end, Ron awoke with his stomach rumbling, and noted down a few things from the conclusion of the lecture.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson, everyone apart from Hermione, Ron and Lily Moon (who was, like Ron, awake by pure coincidence) woke up and they all walked out of the classroom and slid down the Slide of Sorcerous Stone to lunch. Hermione lectured Ron and Harry about going to sleep in lessons.

"It's incredibly disrespectful! And how are you supposed to pass if you don't stay awake?"

"Hermione, we tried!"

"It's impossible!"

"Ronald, it's perfectly doable. You just have to concentrate."

And they argued about whether or not it was possible to stay awake in Professor Binns' class for most of lunch. Harry struck up a conversation with Neville about various ways to not be stung by nettles, which was probably the best way to avoid the argument brewing beside him until they were off to Transfiguration.

* * *

Transfiguration was the first class to involve serious magical theory, and it was a double, at that. Unlike Professor Sprout, who didn't bother doing roll call because she knew their names already, or Professor Binns, who didn't know anyone's names or didn't bother, Professor McGonagall took roll call briskly before giving them a stern warning.

**"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."**

**Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.**

It was very, very hard work. They waved their wands over the matches, but nothing happened. Nothing at all - until around halfway through the lesson, when Hermione succeeded - which surprised Professor McGonagall.

"Very few succeed so early on, Miss Granger," she said to Hermione. "May I ask how you managed to visualise the transfiguration so easily?"

"It's simple, really," said Hermione, "the electrons inside a wooden match are tightly bound with each other, but the electrons in the needle are allowed to flow around the structure of the needle, so I only have to transmit a sense of freedom across with my wand, and the nuclei..."

"Fascinating," breathed Professor McGonagall. "So an approach based on Muggle science leads to faster results with you?"

Hermione beamed. Ron looked at her with apprehension, then turned back to his needle. Across the room, Neville was struggling, and Seamus had managed to light his - he hastily blew it out.

Nobody else succeeded during the lesson, and Professor McGonagall set them an essay on the transformation and the instruction to practise.

* * *

Charms class the next day was given by Professor Flitwick, who was **was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. **He, like Professor McGonagall, also took roll call. When he got to Harry's name, he peered over the desk at him, before continuing.

"One of the most important branches of magic is of course, charms," he said. "And the most important component of charms are the various wand movements, for example the upward jab " - he demonstrated the move - "the swish and flick" - again, a demonstration - "and of course, the anticlockwise twirl. Very few charms do not need a specific wand movement, and these tend to be elemental spells. Can anybody name such a spell?"

Hermione, of course, put up her hand.

"Yes, Miss -"

"Granger, sir. The Aguamenti Charm!"

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor. Anyone else?"

A couple of other hands went up, and Professor Flitwick started picking them out.

"Anthony Goldstein, sir. The Incendiary Charm?"

"Good, ten points to Ravenclaw."

"Lily Moon, Professor. The Ventus Jinx?"

"A good suggestion, but ultimately the Ventus Jinx is a jinx, not a charm. The Bubble-Head Charm is an effective elementary charm, but quite advanced, so we will not be covering it this year."

"Padma Patil, Professor. The Lumos Charm."

"Exactly what I was looking for. Other elemental spells include the Baubilious Charm and the Excavation Charm. Now the Lumos Charm is possibly the most simple spell on the Charms syllabus, so I thought it would make a good first lesson. To cast the spell, simply concentrate hard on the tip of your wand and utter the incantation which is of course, Lumos. If you are successful, the wand tip should light up. The depth of your concentration will, of course, be measured by the brightness of the light you create. All together now, one, two, three, Lumos!"

Four wands across the room lit up. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands.

"Excellent concentration, you four - let's see, Miss Patil, Mr Cornfoot, Mr Entwhistle and Miss Granger, that's thirty points to Ravenclaw and ten points to Gryffindor. Now, for those who have not succeeded, keep trying. For those who have lit wands, the counter-charm has the incantation Nox - simply repeat the process but utter the opposite word."

Professor Flitwick let people continue to attempt the charm as he moved around the classroom, offering help. Harry thought that this might be his favourite class so far, having mastered the charm with Ron about ten minutes in. Neville was having trouble, but thirty minutes in, his wand lit in a blaze of light that had the entire class shouting "Nox" in utter futility.

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the class everyone, especially Seamus Finnigan, had been looking forward to, but quite frankly, it was a bit of a joke. The classroom had a funny smell, Professor Quirrell was always stuttering, and as Ron said later on, the best spell they'd learnt to Defend themselves Against the Dark Arts had been the Lumos Charm. Dean and Parvati found this funny, while Hermione looked scandalized at the insinuation. She couldn't deny, however, that it was quite true.

* * *

In their next Transfiguration lesson, Harry succeeded in turning his match into a needle. When Professor McGonagall asked how he did it, Harry said that he'd concentrated on the tip of the match first, given that both the tip of a match and the tip of a needle were both the painful parts and the useful parts. Hermione had begun to badger him about how on earth that approach could force through the transformation when Seamus Finnigan gave out a shout of surprise.

"My match turned into a needle, but I didn't do anything," he babbled to Professor McGonagall, who strode over to his desk. She looked once around the classroom before finally settling on Ron's look of horror.

"Mr. Weasley, I had hoped that you would be less like your twin brothers, who I have had to throw out of this classroom no fewer than twenty-seven times each. Explain yourself!"

"Well, Professor," he said, gulping, "After Seamus lit his last match, I was looking over at him, and I thought that he had better get on and turn his match into a needle before he sets us all on fire."

Professor McGonagall looked down upon him, eyes narrowed, before walking up to the front of the classroom.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," she said. "Magic is an extremely dangerous tool to use, and will respond to many stimuli, including thought. This is, of course, why accidental magic occurs when a young witch or wizard is feeling particularly strong emotions, but intention-based magic is a mysterious and not particularly well understood area to study. Hogwarts is warded to the hilt against any dangerous magic, but be extremely careful. That said, I believe Mr. Weasley's accidental transfiguration was just that - an accident. Please turn and concentrate on your own needles now, instead of worrying about other people's."

Ron managed the conscious transfiguration of his needle on his next try. When the bell finally rang, Hermione stayed behind.

"Professor, how exactly is Hogwarts warded for safety?"

"That, Miss Granger, is a closely-guarded secret, only known to four individuals in the castle at this moment, and only one person outside this castle, Former Deputy Headmaster Lewis. I am sorry to say that I am not permitted to answer your question, and I hope you understand."

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione, then walked out of the classroom.

* * *

Astronomy was held on Wednesdays at midnight on the top of the appropriately-named Astronomy Tower. **They had to study the night skies through their telescopes, and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets.** It was Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown who excelled at this, the former because of his artistic skills, the latter because she had a (previously) hidden talent for picking out the constellations. I suppose there's not much else to say about Astronomy, except that they were all very tired on Thursday mornings, so it was a good thing they had History of Magic. Hermione, who refused to sleep during History of Magic, fell asleep during lunch, and was nearly late for Charms, in which they learnt no new spells, but did a lot of wand movements. Harry spent much of dinner eating with his left hand, as his right had become very sore.

* * *

And finally, of course, Double Potions on a Friday morning. This was their last lesson of the week (Harry was glad of this, as he had arranged to have tea with Hagrid at three), and quickly plummeted to the bottom as Harry's least favourite. The reason? Well, there were three main reasons, first and foremost being that Professor Snape hated Harry. The second reason was that it was eerie and dark in the dungeons. If you're holding lessons underground, why couldn't you have more light? Harry, used to the well-lit corridors of the tube network, disliked the classroom immediately.

Snape started the lesson by taking roll call. When he got to Harry's name, he paused to look over at him.

**"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."**

**Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle** (Malfoy's bodyguards)** sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.**

**"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."**

**More silence followed this little speech. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to prove she wasn't a dunderhead. Harry gulped.**

**"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"**

**"I don't know, sir," said Harry.**

**Snape's lips curled into a sneer.**

**"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."**

**He ignored Hermione's hand.**

**"Let's try again. Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"**

**Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what monkshood was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.**

**"I don't know, sir."**

**"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.**

**"What would I get, Potter, if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"**

I know this one, thought Harry! It's... what is it... some sort of draught of death. Yes, I'll say that.

"The Draught of Death, Professor?" he volunteered. Snape's eyes glinted malevolently (as far as malevolent glints are possible in the human eye, of course) as he replied.

"Incorrect, Potter, your stupidity knows no bounds. **For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death,** not the "Draught of Death", as you so naively assumed**.**** A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"**

**There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your attention-seeking behaviour, Miss Granger."**

Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Ron paired up with Dean, while Hermione paired with Harry. When they returned with the ingredients, carefully holding the snake fangs, Snape waved his wand, and fires blazed beneath the many cauldrons across the room. Harry pushed his chair back from the flames, which crackled at him. Hermione looked at him oddly, but he grabbed the pestle and mortar from the table, put the snake fangs inside, and began to crush them.

**Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. **Hermione grabbed her bag and climbed onto her stool, but Harry was frozen in shock, looking at the smoke and flames.

* * *

_"This station is now closed. Please exit the station through any available exit."_

_Harry wandered through King's Cross St Pancras Station. He'd got off his Victoria Line train from Euston, and was heading for the Piccadilly Line so he could spend the night at Aldwych, which was usually a good place to go. He'd picked up a good meal in Finchley (he knew the staff at the Catcher in the Rye quite well), so he felt full. He heard the announcement as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked over at the escalators down the hall. Smoke and flames were coming from the escalator shaft, and he heard them. The screams._

_Harry ran for the stairs. The air suddenly heated up behind him and there was a loud bang, but he had already reached the top of the staircase. Jumping through the closing doors of a northbound Victoria Line train, he left the devastation behind him, the acrid stench of burning rubber remaining on the platform he'd just left._

* * *

"Harry!" said Hermione. Harry slowly looked around at the rest of the classroom. Snape had evidently cleared up the potion spill, as he was berating Neville over it. Then he rounded on Harry.

**"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."**

This did not register with Harry, and as they climbed the stairs an hour later, he remained silent.

"Harry sort of went into shock over the potions accident today. Harry, what's wrong?" asked Hermione. Ron looked worriedly over at Harry.

"What happened, mate?"

"Nothing," said Harry. "I - I just don't like fire that much."

"That's not dislike, Harry! Flashbacks only ever come from moments of extreme trauma. What happened?"

"It's gone now, Hermione, I'm fine," he repeated. Hermione and Ron did not press the issue.

* * *

At five to three, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way across the grounds. **Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.**

**When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."**

**Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.**

**"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."**

**He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. ****There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.**

**"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.**

"This is Ron," said Harry, "and that's Hermione." Hagrid was pouring boiling water from a jug by the fire into an enormous teapot and taking rock cakes out of a cupboard.

**"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."**

"They shouldn't be in there!" said Hermione. Hagrid chuckled.

"I'd like to see anyone stop them," he said. "They're always hunting around in there, Merlin knows what for. So you're Hermione? Professor McGonagall told me about you, said you were the most brilliant young witch she'd ever met." Hermione blushed.

**The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Ron and Hermione pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.**

As Hermione talked about their Astronomy lessons, **Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:**

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

**Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.**

**Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.**

**"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.**

**"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"**

**Hagrid didn't meet Harry's eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?**

* * *

Well, I think I'll end it here. That Transfiguration lesson was a pig to write, and so was the flashback. A reminder - the flashback refers to the King's Cross Fire of 1987, which as I mentioned in The Scarred Man and the A Stock, Harry was present for (though he was just seven years old at the time). It's cruel fate to leave him in the sixth biggest LU accident in history (I'm counting fatalities here) - the top three are WWII accidents, number four is the 7/7 bombings and number five is the 1975 Moorgate crash.

Herbology does seem Pottermore-ish, but I like it that way. Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff head of house would surely allow some of the dried nettles to be used in potions. As for the Hogwarts Wards, they will become an important part of the story later on.

Also, Ron and Hermione's first argument. It was after I wrote the A Stock story that I thought about all of Ron's wasted potential (master of the chessboard, but never used for strategy), so I decided to write a story where he'd be persuaded to buckle down and work. What could possibly encourage him to do so? Well, Hermione is his best bet. But he never listens to Hermione, does he? He's too stubborn and headstrong. Except - and this is the revelation - for on September 1st, 1991, when he's nervous and making his first friends. He meets Harry on that day, so how to make sure Hermione is in the same compartment as Harry (without this becoming a "the Grangers adopts Harry", which is done pretty well in The Accidental Animagus by White Squirrel)? Hermione would turn up ridiculously early, so we have to make sure Harry turns up early too. Why would he turn up early? So he didn't miss the train. Then, of course, I realised I was already writing the exact story I was trying to write.

Ron will never get the Agrippa card, I'm afraid. It must be enchanted to avoid male members of the Weasley family.

Right... please review, yada yada yada.


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